Breaching the Veil
by Shadepyre
Summary: Rabanastre has been brought low by Imperial rule. Poverty and starvation are her court and broken dreams her people. When two orphans take a job in hopes of bettering their own lot, they find themselves in the midst of an insidious plot involving... well.


**Prologue: The Before**

**AN: And so, here we are again. It's been quite some time since I've been here... some of you might recognize me as Shadesong, (hiya BaschAshe! ^^) but if you don't, that's fine; I can't help but look back at my earlier writing and gag a bit, so a certain amount of anonymity would not be unwelcome. More background on this particular story as it develops. I'll try to have a chapter up every three or four days. **

**Veteran writers, I'm going to need a lot of help with this. It's been a while since I've written anything, much less something of this magnitude, so feel free to bash me over the head with criticism, critiques, etc. I have a feeling that I'm going need, and appreciate, all of it.**

**Final Fantasy XII and all affiliated characters are the Property of Square Enix.**

By the time Vaan left the Sandsea, night had begun its descent upon Rabanastre. The noise and bustle that defined the capital during the daylight hours were nowhere in evidence; in their place, hushed conversation and furtive meetings inundated the darkened streets and cramped alleyways. The Imperial soldiers that Vaan passed eyed him suspiciously, and one even went so far as to pull him aside and demanded to know what business he had on the streets at the present hour. Although he didn't seem to be entirely satisfied with "Oh, I just finished a delivery for Migelo's Sundries. Had some trouble finding the guy," the guard shooed him away with a warning to see that he was indoors before the sun had fully set.

After that, the remainder of the walk back to Migelo's passed without incident. It always bothered Vaan to see the city die at night; the moment that the last slanting rays of the sun faded into the west, the soldiers began their rounds, coldly enforcing the curfew that had only recently been inflicted upon the city. Vaan hated it.

Vaan emerged from the alleyway that connected Rabanastre's two market districts just in time to see the artfully-illuminated sign that Migelo had recently raised in front of his shop flicker and go out. As he got closer to the shop, he heard a familiar humming and the jingle of keys being fished out of a pocket.

"Migelo!" he shouted, breaking into a trot. "Hey Migelo, wait up; I'm back."

Migelo turned ponderously, one hand still absently fishing for a key.

"Yes, yes... Vaan." He sighed, probably in relief, Vaan suspected. "What are you doing out so late, m'boy? You know that when the city sleeps-"

"I know, I know," muttered Vaan." Imperials, Questioning... I know how they work. But you know-" He reached inside his vest, slipped his fingers into a hidden pocket that Penelo had (reluctantly) sewn there, and produced a dirty, bedraggled envelope sealed with a glob of crimson wax. The paper was in rather poor condition, but considering the means that it had taken to get his hands on it, Vaan wasn't really that surprised. "They really don't search you as well as they should."

Migelo blinked at the pouch sitting in Vaan's hand, sighed, and then pulled open the door to the shop.

"Go on in. Quickly now. Penelo is upstairs, been home for hours... She was looking for you, I think."

Vaan felt a sharp stab of guilt; of _course_ Penelo would be looking for him. He was usually home well before sunset, and his errand to the Sandsea... he hadn't told her about that. He hadn't told anyone.

_Gods, she's going to be so mad at me._

Vaan sighed and prepared himself for a tirade as Migelo waved and shut the door behind him. When he had ascended the short staircase hidden in the back of the store, however, he heard a curious scratching sound. It took him a moment to recognize it as a pen scrabbling across paper. Well, there was that much at least; Penelo was, presumably, writing gods-only-knew-what in her journal; maybe that meant that she wasn't too worried about his absence... though a furious little voice in his head screamed at him that he was an idiot and that he should prepare for being punched and kicked, and possibly bitten, though Vaan didn't truly see that as likely. That had only happened once, and Penelo was reasonable. Most of the time.

Resigned to the worst, Vaan pushed open the door to their cramped two-room apartment and stepped inside, making as little noise as possible. His gaze immediately settled on Penelo's hunched form sitting in an old chair that they had scrounged from the warehouse in Lowtown. She was facing away from the door and scribbling furiously in a journal that Vaan had bought for her a few weeks prior for her birthday; when he told her that he had bought it with some money he had been saving up, she had broken down and started crying, leaving him confused and, if he wanted to be honest with himself, somewhat hurt.

She had explained everything later, though -that very night, in fact - and had even kissed him on the cheek. Vaan still wasn't sure how he felt about that. Regardless of how _she_ had felt about it then, however, she was quite agitated now, judging by the way she was hunched over the makeshift table that Vaan had erected beneath their solitary window, her shoulders taut and her fingernails white from the death grip in which she held the pen. Slowly, cautiously, Vaan stalked up behind her and bent forward so that his head was next to hers.

"Hey Pen, watcha writing?"

Penelo yelped, paper and pen took flight, and Vaan Ratsbane found himself sitting squarely on his arse as the rickety chair in which Penelo had been sitting, as well as Penelo herself, toppled backward into his legs. Before he had the chance to concoct some clever, dashing comment – probably something along the lines of "I knew you were falling all over me Pen, but geez" - Penelo disentangled herself from her chair and, in the process of climbing to her feet, gave Vaan a swift kick to the ribs.

"Hey, ow!" exclaimed Vaan, to which Penelo's only reply was a sullen glare. The way her brow furrowed slightly in the middle told Vaan that she was angry about something other than his late return; it was a look of preoccupation that Vaan had a feeling had little to do with him.

"Penelo," he began, "what's-"

"Where have you been, Vaan?" She exclaimed. "I've been worried sick! Migelo didn't know where you were and.. and how many times have I told you not to do your sneak-thief act when I'm writing? You know that I don't like it when people read-"

"Your journal," finished Vaan, massaging his side with one hand and pushing the chair away with the other. "Privacy, private thoughts..." He stood up and righted the chair. "...that kind of thing. I don't know why you're being so... weird about it. I mean, you pretty much say whatever you're thinking, right? That's what I do."

Penelo stared at him for a moment before wearily running a hand down her face.

"... Yes, Vaan," she said weakly. "I voice every thought that pops into my head, be it 'Hey, that lady must've gained thirty pounds since the last time we saw her! D'you think she's pregnant?' or 'Geez Pen, these chocobos smell worse than you did after being stuck in that cave for a week!"

"Hah!" barked Vaan. "Well, she... I mean... you..." He scratched the back of his neck. "It was all true, so I mean-"

"Those are private thoughts, Vaan," sighed Penelo. She gave him a look of mingled pity and frustration and turned, apparently deciding on the spot that she wasn't going to get anymore writing done that night, and made for their bedroom, leaving her journal where it lay. "You just don't say those kinds of things out loud, at least not where other people can hear them, because you don't want to offend anyone," she continued over her shoulder. "Voicing them isn't going to help anyone or change anything for the better. You're just going to get yourself in trouble... which you seem to have no difficulty accomplishing through other means. Tonight, for example. What would you have done if the Imperials had caught you and dragged you off for questioning? What would _I_ do, Vaan? Did you ever think about that?"

_Who do you think I do this for? _Vaan almost snapped. _Do you think I enjoy this life? _

He hesitated, then followed Penelo into the bedroom.

"I do what I have to, Penelo," he finally said, trying not to let the sudden anger that he was feeling bleed into his tone. "You of all people should know that. We have to eat. We have to live." He folded his arms and leant back against the door frame as Penelo flopped face down on the bed, such as it was, and pulled a pillow over her head. Vaan knew that he definitely didn't need to get angry at Penelo – after all, he couldn't recall ever explaining to her why he did things the way he did... but, to him, it should have been obvious – but that didn't help numb the sting of her criticism. He let the silence breathe.

Finally, his indignation ebbing, Vaan crossed the room and gently sat down on the bed beside her. She didn't respond to the sudden depression of weight, nor did she object when Vaan gently pulled her hands away from the pillow and set it aside. Not knowing what to do or what to say, Vaan stretched out beside her, placed his hands behind his head, and breathed a sigh of helpless resignation. After several seconds of uncomfortable silence, Penelo rolled onto her side to face him. She opened her mouth, closed it, and finally settled with sliding closer to Vaan, who silently unfolded his arms, circled one around her, and gently pulled her head to his chest.

The apartment fell silent as the last traces of sunlight fled and the city died.

Vaan lay in silence for a time, listening to the sound of Penelo's soft, steady breathing and wishing that he could do more for her – that he could give her a life that was easier, happier, safer. His thoughts wandered to the pouch still tucked away inside his vest, and the letter that it contained.

"I hate this," Penelo mumbled suddenly. "I hate that you have to put yourself in danger just so that we can get by. I know that isn't what you want... and I'm sorry that I-"

"Don't," murmured Vaan. "You don't have anything to apologize for. I understand."

_And so do you._

Penelo started to say something else, but apparently thought better of it and instead contented herself with craning her neck to kiss him on the cheek. Vaan's other hand found hers, and she laced her fingers through his.

"Thank you," she whispered into the darkness.


End file.
